forty-seven

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Ellie Webber

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Ellie Webber

I was an insufferable insomniac.

My lips were dry and my tongue was as rough as sandpaper since all of the water in my body had diminished after the late hours of last night. Usually, when I stay up all night it's because I willingly stayed up to read a book. Usually, it's because I wanted to binge-watch my favorite television show. One time, I stayed up and watched every single Harry Potter movie back to back– I only went piss six times.

However, last night took the cake.

My tears were constant and the only interesting thing that I was watching was the sunrise and the paint on the walls. The only thing I was reading was the time on the clock. And I was crying so much that there was no liquid in my body to piss out.

We spend so much of our lives focusing on others. We admire celebrities. We admire book characters. We admire athletes. We admire noble peace prize winners. But why don't we admire ourselves?

I mean, I bet all of those people who we worship and admire once were insomniacs too. Maybe they held in their piss for way too long too.

The longer I stared at the sun rising, the more the anger grew in me.

And then I wondered to myself– why the hell when I am mad when I could just be bitter? I have spent my entire life dreaming and worshiping the day that I would meet my place and person of worship.

The Ohio State University.

I'm sure this place had caused people to lose sleep and hold in their piss, but still– I was not letting anyone ruin this trip for me. I was supposed to be happy here. Right? This was my dream come true.

"Ellie! Look at this huge young adult section!" I wanted the smut section, Grandma.

I wanted the full-on smut section to the point that I was reading a book that made me squeeze my legs together and it had me so indulged in the wording that I forgot about everything in the outside world.

I believed there were three reasons why people enjoyed smut books.

Number One: readers just liked to read it.

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